


Twelve Hours

by TheInverseUniverse



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Deep deep down, Gen, Hurt Alex Rider, Inspired by Valak's A Gentlemen's Agreement, No knowledge of Gentlemen’s Agreement required, Yassen Gregorovich Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInverseUniverse/pseuds/TheInverseUniverse
Summary: "[Alex] would find himself bloodied and bruised but relatively unharmed somewhere he could safely be found. Not retrieved, because the first time Yassen had activated his beacon he had been more than a little furious to find him still there 12 hours later."-A Gentlemen's Agreementby Valaks------This is the story of those twelve hours, how they came to be, and what came after.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Comments: 9
Kudos: 161





	Twelve Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gentleman’s Agreement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422646) by [Valaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaks/pseuds/Valaks). 



> Well, Valak, a month later, this is finally done!

When a guard reported that they’d caught a boy sneaking into the generator room, Yassen allowed himself a frustrated breath. But no more.

He didn’t doubt that the intruder was Alex Rider. What was harder to believe? A teenage spy, or that another teenager had wandered into a compound in the Canadian wilderness?

By the time Yassen reached their makeshift prison, one of his men was already shaking out Alex’s clothes and checking them for bugs. Alex, for his part, was standing in his boxers and staring down the two men pointing machine guns at him.

He hadn’t gone down easy. Alex’s ample exposed skin was sporting several new cuts and scrapes, as well as the telltale red of developing bruises. The tension in his arms was visible as he resisted the urge to cover himself. So he had not lost his pride either.

Alex’s eyes narrowed when he saw Yassen, but the assassin ignored him and addressed his men. “Report.”

“Found him in the generator room,” one of the men holding a gun said. “Took four of us to take the little bastard. We found flash drives and some kind of bug on him. Mike searched the generator room and found a bomb. If you want to know what I think-”

“You are not paid for your opinion,” Yassen cut off. He turned to face Alex, who did a remarkable job hiding his fear. “Hello, Alex.”

“You found my stuff,” Alex bit out, not playing with pleasantries. Very well then. “Give me my clothes back.”

“No,” Yassen said simply. An unclothed captive was physically and mentally vulnerable.

Alex grit his teeth but did not argue the point. “Arse,” he grumbled.

Yassen stepped into Alex’s space, making him take an abrupt step back. There was real, animal fear there. From what information Yassen had gathered, this was the point in Alex’s missions where a megalomaniac explained their plans before setting up an elaborate and escapable death trap. Yassen would do no such thing-- he retrieved information and disposed of loose ends. And Alex knew this.

“Why are you here?” Yassen asked evenly.

Alex sneered and said, “Your mum invited me.”

Like a snake in the grass, Yassen’s arm lashed out and slapped him across the face.

Alex stumbled back, moved by the force of the blow. Yassen wasn’t upset by the words--he had heard worse from greater men--but he wanted the situation made clear. Alex would tell him why he was here, and he would do it without foolish games or futile resistance.

After Alex regained his footing, he swung a fist at Yassen. 

Yassen caught his wrist before it could get near his face. 

Alex went wide-eyed. He knew there would be consequences, but had lashed out nonetheless.

Without so much as a frown, Yassen clenched his fist around Alex’s wrist. His knees buckled from the sudden pain, leaving Yassen supporting half of his weight. 

“The sooner you tell me, the less you will suffer,” Yassen promised.

“Go- go fuck yourself,”

\------

Yassen returned to his office, wiping Alex’s blood from his fist. He had fulfilled his obligation to his employer and was confident that MI6 posed no more threat to their operation. And regardless of anything Alex could have discovered, his purpose would be fulfilled by the end of the night. 

Now the question remained: What to do with Alex? 

The obvious answer was to kill him. That is what one did with enemy agents. 

But like every time he should have killed Alex Rider, Yassen hesitated. 

Hunter’s son was a thorn in his side, but also a worthy opponent. Yassen knew talent when he saw it and knew when someone’s loyalty could be swayed. So really, he would be wasting a potential asset. 

(Yassen ignored the small voice that called him sentimental. It sounded far too much like Hunter).

He also knew that Rider had a beacon hidden in his sneaker that had not yet been activated. One that would summon an extraction team and whisk him back to MI6’s overbearing arms.

It was a risk, but one that Yassen could afford.

\------

Yassen pulled his vehicle to a stop at the end of the road. They had driven an hour or so from the compound, but they would have to hike the rest of the way to the location Yassen had chosen. 

He climbed out and went around to the trunk. When he opened it, Alex glared up at him and shouted through his gag.

Ignoring his complaints, Yassen grabbed Alex’s bound wrists and hauled him out of the trunk, dropping him in a heap on the dirt road. 

Yassen knew his craft well and knew that none of Alex’s injuries were life-threatening or would cause disability. They were, however, more than painful enough to have drawn out all of Alex’s secrets. And to make Alex slow with pain as he lifted his face from the dirt.

As he took in his surroundings, the middle of the woods at night, Alex’s breathing picked up, and he whipped his head around, looking for something. Or more likely, some way out.

“Get up,” Yassen ordered. He unholstered his handgun, not foolish enough to expect Alex to cooperate. “We have a ways to hike.”

Alex nodded and slowly got to his knees, nostrils flaring as he breathed hard around the fabric in his mouth. But instead of continuing to unsteadily rise to his feet, Alex scrambled up and shot off like a gun.

He skidded around the car and bolted down the trail, putting as much ground between himself and Yassen as possible. Normally Alex was much faster than this, but he wasn’t normally tied up and barefoot after a torture session.

Yassen took chase and closed the ground between them easily. He tackled Alex, slamming them both to the ground.

“No!” Alex shouted, trying to wriggle out from underneath the larger man. The gag had been knocked free when they hit the ground.

Yassen flipped Alex onto his back, still pinning him down. “Do not be difficult.”

“Fuck you!” Alex snarled, voice hoarse from his earlier screaming. “Kill me here, I’m not going on a death march.”

Well, that explained Alex’s reaction. The boy had been ~~more or~~ less complacent when he was taken from the compound, but this did look like a prime location for a murder. And if they went farther from the road, it would be one.

“I am not going to kill you,” Yassen explained as he restrained Alex’s struggles. “That would be easier and more efficient at the compound.”

“Then why’d you drag me into the middle of the woods?!” Alex demanded, bare feet still pushing against the dirt, desperate for some purchase and some escape.

“I will explain when we arrive. But there is nothing I can do to you here that I could not have done at the compound.”

Alex's thrashing died down after a time, and his chest heaved beneath Yassen’s. Once he laid his head back against the dirt, Yassen stood, keeping the gun pointed at Alex's chest.

"You will walk ahead of me. You will not run and you will not turn around. Do you understand?"

After a moment, Alex grit his teeth and nodded.

"Stand," Yassen ordered, and Alex stood. The evening air had raised goosebumps on his arms, but Yassen did not think his shaking was from the cold.

"Where are we going?" Alex asked.

Yassen prodded him with the gun and watched as the muscles on Alex's back tensed as he staggered forward.

The path was overgrown from disuse, and Alex's bare feet slowed him down as they pushed through the underbrush.

After a few minutes, Alex hazarded a question. "Why not kill me at the compound?"

"If you prefer I can shoot you now.”

Alex turned to give his response, but Yassen grabbed the back of his head and shoved him forward, making him stumble and fall. "I said you will not turn around."

When Alex fell, he landed hunched over on his knees, barely keeping his forehead from the ground. Yassen watched his shoulders shake as he schooled his emotions before climbing to his feet again. Was it rage or fear? Or both?

Eventually they came to a small clearing, and Alex slowed.

"I did not say to stop," Yassen scolded. "But we are here."

"Where is here?"

Yassen ignored him and said, "Left."

They went left and Yassen grabbed Alex by the shoulder.

Alex jumped when Yassen touched him, but allowed himself to be pulled over to a large tree on the edge of the clearing

"I'm going to cut your wrists free for a moment. You will do nothing except turn around, or there will be consequences."

"Consequences worse than this?" Alex muttered as Yassen pulled out a knife. His fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white as Yassen sliced through the ropes.

"Turn."

Alex turned around, arms held stiffly at his sides. He met Yassen's eye boldly, and only the way his throat worked revealed his swallowed panic.

Yassen grabbed Alex's wrist and hoisted it over his head, making the boy jump and try to pull back.

As he wound a length of sturdy rope around Alex's wrist and a suitably high branch, Alex looked up at Yassen. "What do you _want_?" He pleaded.

Silently, Yassen lifted and tied the other wrist. He yanked on Alex's arms a few times, ensuring the ropes held. Satisfied, he stepped back and nodded.

Alex also yanked on the ropes and shouted, "Just tell me what you want!"

When Yassen pulled the locator beacon from his pocket, Alex's jaw dropped. "You're not serious!"

"Your masters will be here for you before too long. It will take an hour for the nearby airbase to scramble a helicopter and send forces down from the ridge. American forces can be here in two and a half hours," Yassen explained.

"It's five degrees out!" Alex shouted, yanking on the ropes again. His shock must have broken through his terror. "And I'm bloody naked."

"It is twelve degrees out. You will survive until help arrives," Yassen wrote off his histrionics. It would be embarrassing when he was found, yes, but if anything that would further press upon him to return to school.

"Yassen!" Alex shouted, still struggling fiercely against the rope. "They won't come! You can't leave me here."

"You are their prized agent," Yassen dismissed. "I do not have time for an argument." He stepped back and Alex grew desperate.

"Yassen, please. They won't come, and it's too cold out here. I'll either die of cold or thirst before they get here," Alex begged.

Frankly, Yassen was disappointed. He had expected less dramatic exaggeration. He had raced against MI6 extraction teams before, and they were always prompt. 

"Goodbye, Alex," he said. "Do not interfere with my work again."

Yassen turned and started back down the trail.

"You can't leave me here! Yassen, please!"

Alex's pleas faded into the underbrush as Yassen hiked back to his car.

\------

The next morning, Yassen woke before the sun with a discomfiting feeling in his gut. The job was complete, and today he was only supervising teardown and evidence removal. So why did he feel disaster looming?

After many years in this life, Yassen had learned to trust his gut. And his gut told him to return to the clearing he had left Alex in.

It would be a detour, a long one. And he shouldn't take that much time off on the final day. But he could not shake the feeling.

And so, Yassen dressed and retrieved his keys, and drove back to the trailhead.

When he arrived, Yassen again hiked up the trail. When he crested the hill and saw the clearing, he swore.

Alex was still there, still tied to the tree. His head lay against his chest and his skin was deathly pale. Hypothermia would have set in, and perhaps frostbite.

It was nearing twelve hours since Yassen had activated Alex's tracker beacon. And there wasn't even a helicopter on the ridge. Surprising himself, Yassen ran to Alex.

The boy's skin was pale and cold to the touch, but when Yassen felt for a pulse, he found one. The dark bruises Alex earned last night were now livid in contrast to his bloodless skin. Many of his cuts had reopened in the night, which, alongside Alex's wrists, spoke to a desperate and violent struggle against the ropes binding him.

And his wrists.

Blood slicked the ropes securing Alex to the now scarlet tree branch. The boy had yanked against the ropes fiercely enough to leave deep, bloody gauges on his forearms. The pain that would cause spoke to someone fighting for their life. 

And if Yassen had not returned, it would have been a losing battle.

"Alex," Yassen called, lifting Alex's face. Was he asleep or unconscious?

He tapped Alex's face with unfamiliar gentleness, and after a tense moment, Alex forced his eyes open. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on Yassen, but once they did, Alex sucked in a breath and tried to pull away.

"I am not here to harm you," Yassen assured him. He was surprised at the rage filling his chest. He had known MI6 had failed to protect Hunter, but he assumed they would care for their most fragile agent. Apparently not, if 12 hours wasn't enough time for an extraction.

Alex shook his head and stumbled over his blue lips to say, "T-told you. They won't come."

"And they did not," Yassen seethed. Now he had to change plans.

When Yassen pulled out his knife, Alex didn't flinch, just let out a resigned breath. That was unacceptable. "As I said, I am not going to harm you."

"Already did," Alex mumbled, barely intelligible through his frozen face.

"And MI6 has not?" Yassen asked, again surprised at himself.

Either Alex wasn't coherent enough to pick up on the emotion, or he was too cold and in pain to care.

The question now was what to do with him. He couldn't leave Alex here unless he truly wanted to kill him. But he could not take him back to the compound. 

In only a moment, it came to him. While Yassen had thought his employer a fool for setting up operations so close to the Air Force base, now it would work in his favor.

He hitched a thigh between Alex's, making the boy’s eyes go wide. But Yassen merely used his knee to relieve the weight that Alex's legs could not take off his wrists. 

The position pressed Alex's face to his chest as Yassen cut the ropes around one wrist and then slowly brought his arm down. He repeated the process on the other side, and then carefully lowered Alex to the ground.

Alex tried for a moment to regain his footing, but his knees gave out and Yassen had to catch him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Ignoring the pointless apologies, Yassen stooped and lifted Alex, holding him beneath his shoulders and legs. Alex made a noise of protest, but could do little to stop him.

Yassen set off down the trail he had forced Alex along last night, feeling the cold of Alex's limbs penetrate through his jacket. 

Neither said a word until Alex murmured, "Why'd you come back?"

Yassen didn't have an answer for that.

They continued in silence until they got to the car. Yassen carefully opened the back seat and set Alex across the seats. He then opened all four doors, flushing the warm air from the vehicle. He could not allow Alex to rewarm.

He laid his jacket across Alex and closed all of the doors before climbing into the car and driving down the dirt road.

Alex lay back against the soft seats for a few minutes before asking, "Where are we going?"

"Hush," Yassen said. "Somewhere you can be collected."

Alex frowned but nodded drowsily.

A few minutes later, Yassen pulled his car to a stop at another trailhead. He climbed out and carefully lifted Alex again. He was still cold to the touch and hopefully hadn't warmed to where the cool air would worsen the damage.

Alex was more alert now and scanned their surroundings. "Why do so much to avoid killing me?"

Yassen did not answer.

Alex started to struggle against his hold, despite the weakness of his limbs. "Tell me, Yassen."

"Are you trying to change my mind?"

"I just don't under-"

Yassen dropped Alex. His lungs emptied with a _whoomph_ as he hit the ground and he gave Yassen a cross look. The cold had not frozen away his attitude.

"Can you stand?"

Alex gave it a valiant attempt and even got to his knees before his shaking arms gave out and he collapsed onto Yassen's jacket.

Yassen hauled him up by the elbow and dragged him over to another tree. As Yassen lifted one of his wrists and fished rope from his pocket Alex began to struggle again.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, trying and failing to pull away. Last night Yassen needed a gun to keep Alex under control, but now it was like wrestling a kitten.

Yassen tied the other wrist above Alex's head and Alex kicked at him. "You can't leave me out here again!" Alex insisted. He if could have gone paler, he would have.

"You are not reliant on MI6 for rescue now," Yassen assured him.

Alex yanked at the ropes, wincing as it reopened the wounds and let blood trickle down to his elbows. "Yassen, please." He was panicked, likely terrified at the thought of another hopeless night in the wilderness.

"The airmen at the local base patrol this area every morning. They will be here in approximately twenty-three minutes and will retrieve you," Yassen assured him.

"No, you can't leave me!" Alex shouted, terrified and thrashing against the ropes. Perhaps Yassen had unintentionally done some mental damage the night before. Being left to die of exposure may have had an impact on the boy.

"You will not be here long," Yassen assured him. And for good measure, "Tell MI6 no next time they come calling."

Alex scoffed in disbelief and continued trying to free his wrists. Blood was running freely down his arms again, but he didn't seem to care.

Yassen turned away and Alex shouted, "No! Please don't leave me!"

As Yassen made his way down the trail, he again had to ignore Alex's pleas.

\------

Yassen watched through his binoculars as a small group of airmen jogged along the trail. He saw Alex's head perk up at the sound of approaching people.

Alex shouted, presumably for help, and the airmen sped up their pace until they came upon Alex tied beside the trail.

They came to a halt as they saw the bloody and half-naked teenager, before one of them, likely a medic, barked orders to the others and raced over to Alex. Once he cut the boys wrists free, Yassen lowered his binoculars. Alex would go home, and Yassen was grimly certain that they would meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Fun fact! Today the kid I nanny told me that "Thanos doesn't support all lives matter. He thinks black lives matter, but only half of them."
> 
> No, I didn't know what to do with that either.
> 
> Leave me a comment down below!


End file.
